The Endless Appetite
by Kim The Manipaltive Little Mo
Summary: Monsters aren't born they're made. Follow Bella's journey from the light into Darkness.


Title: The Endless Appetite.

Author: Kim, The Manipulative Little Monster

Rating: R.

Summary: Bellatrix Black Lestrange wasn't born into being a monster, she was made. A story following her from her childhood until her imprisonment in Akazaban, and the people that she dealt with along the way.

Disclaimer: So, it doesn't really do anything to make me not legally responsible, it's just polite to do. If you know it, it's JKR's (the goddess who owns us all) and if you don't it's mine. The lyrics here and there are from The Endless Appetite, a song from Dance of the Vampires by Jim Steinback. It rocks and you should download it from the DotV site.

Author's Notes: Well, I have been working on this in bites and pieces since OotP came out, and decided to post it now. I'd love feedback to know weather or not I should continue it. Thanks to folks in advance and to AM for being the Muse.

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Prologue:

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Well all right,

no stars tonight

The moon must hide

can't bear to see my face

So many moons have passed

So many suns gone down

Too much blood under the bridge

Too many worlds turned upside down

If hell had existed, and it was not as the muggles recalled it, filled with brimstone and smoke. Instead it's stench would be remansisant of the one that pertained his nose as he stared into the dim light that was toned with monotone shades of black. The smell would be acricadated fear mingled with demoralized evil that twisted in your mouth, burning it with ammonia and hate. 

Calmly he leaned forward in his cell, fingers wrapping haphazardly over the small gap in the bars that had been added when the prison was to be made more "human.'' When guarded by these beasts, there was no such thing as humane. He could feel them moving down the hall, coming towards the high security area with an almost humming emotion. They were excited, the new breed of higher emotions always would increase the manner in which they tormented the old prisoners. That could only mean one thing: the new arrivals had entered.

The symphony of bitter gasps and wretch whimpers started up, as the dark ones floated down the hall towards the man as he watched in an almost casual manner through the bars. The sense of falling through veils followed him, reaching into his stomach and wrenching it, as if it was going to attempt to devour him hole. The sounds of shuffling was added to the moans, and the sounds of sobs increased as the newest of the buffet were pulled through by clawed fingers. 

For a moment, a bitter sympathy pulled at his mind, watching as those who seemed so young were dragged past sobbing. For a moment he considered speaking a word, or perhaps offering a gesture. But he was more then aware of what such a meaningless offering could make here. Already the dementors walked closer to his cell, half dragging the man child as he sobbed. "Mother…. Mother!" The words were spoken over and over like a bleated prayer. 

A prayer that no one would ever hear. In Akazaban prison, no one could hear you pray.

The boy was pulled past his cage, and he nearly gasped at his lack of age. Amazing, really how young some of these people were, so filled with the pathos of wrong impressions. For a moment, his hand extended, unfurled towards the man who was a boy, and it seemed that a reassuring contact would be offered. Perhaps the demons could sense that, even if they couldn't see the hand, and so the boy was held between skeleton fingers, and pulled from beyond reach. 

He sighed, and watched as the cell door opened, and he heard the boy's sounds of terror increase, until the whimpering reached a crescendo. Grimace followed, and he closed his eyes as he heard the thud of the boy's body slamming against the far wall of the cell. Sirius was aware that the boy had been knocked out. He wasn't dead. The dementor's weren't careless enough with their prey to murder them before they were finished sucking the marrow of joy from their bones.

Shaking his head, he started to pull away from the barred window in the stout door of his cell. That should have been it for the maximum security ward. Twelve cells holding twelve lost souls on this level. But a movement at the entrance caught his eye, and he inhaled sharply at what he saw. 

This new arrival didn't whimper or attempt to wretch their arm away from the grip. Instead she walked in, her head held as high as a queen, her steps small and formal. For a moment he was reminded of a bride making a processional down the aisle to her wedding… Sharpness bleed against his chest and he closed his eyes, attempting to stop the mental images that were filling his head. She looked dirty, and a smear of grime streaked her face, but he saw her in white, looking cold and bored upon her wedding day…

He knew that those memories belonged to people with different lives, different loyalties and to an entirely different time.

A large smile spread over her face, almost as if she found the entire process amusing. Indeed, her tossed her head back, the long thick hair flying against a dementor who stared at her for a moment before he pressed his fingers more cruelly into her wrist. The grip made him wince, but didn't even register upon her face as she walked down the corridor. Indeed, she lifted her hand, as if she was offering him to press harder, the thick chains chiming as she made even the smallest gesture. He knew for himself that those chains were impossibly heavy, and resilient to the smallest bit of magic. But she bore them as if they were bracelets…

As she and her little procession, for more dementors were crowding around her as the others were placed within cells, moved down closer to his cell, he stared at her. Eyes locked on her own, the same shade in the light. Candles gleaming through honey was what she had once said. He watched her for a bit of recognition, a bit of sanity, any sign that she was aware of who he was.

It seemed that there would be one, and she was almost past his cell before she stopped and her grin increased. Hands raised to the level of her mouth, and one grubby palm was pressed to chapped lips, and a mockery of a kiss was blown in his direction before she giggled almost and waved to him with a crook of fingers. 

Breath was held as he stared into her eyes as she was shepherded down the hall away from him. They hadn't seen each other in so long, and now a stranger with a familiar face stared back at him. She was crueler now, and colder, as if the person he had known was coated in ice. One heavy laden lid moved haughtily over down, and her lashes made a circle on her cheek before she raised them up with a teasing wink. Nothing was said before she deliberately turned her head, so that he could only see a mask of sleek hair.

After she entered her cell, the lights in the hallway went out, and he walked over to the pallet that served as a bed before he looked out upon the clouds and the roar of the sea below. Her name was breathed down, cast into the very stillness of the air around him. "Bella…" For a moment he thought he would cry, but knew that tears wouldn't do either of them any good. Instead, he added her name to the funeral in his heart, next to James and Lily's for the people he had lost.

She didn't fight when she was placed into the cell, she merely stood there, glaring at the dementor's as they removed the chains that bound her wrists. Dark eyes stared into the hood, almost as if she was picturing what was below it. She had heard from others of course, but knew that they wouldn't be offering a kiss to her. Someday, when her lord returned they would be on the same side, and neither wished to do anything lasting as of this moment.

After the door shut behind her, she took a long shuddering breath, and her fingers groped over the sores that the chains had left upon her skin. Lip curled a bit as she scored the tender flesh with ragged nails, savoring it for a moment before she walked to the window and looked out over the sea. Sigh followed and she felt the dementors leaving her, but in her mind, it really didn't matter. Bella had lived with the darkness all of her life.

From the left of her she could hear Barty Jr. whimpering, and she hissed at him. How stupid was that prat? When she was out of here, she was going to make that boy sorry. How dare he denounce their Lord, and try to sell them out? Tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth and she bit it, filling the cavern with the taste of copper and heat. Vengeance gave her something to do while she waited.

At the thought of her revenge, her mind was drafted to another topic. She leaned against the window, standing on her tiptoes to press her fingers into the wind, almost as if she could swirl them into something more substantial. The silver ring coiled over her middle finger, and she watched the cobra inside for a moment, remembering another time when a gilded ring was removed…

She could picture leather sliding it down her frame, and then fingers snuffing out a candle… A low chuckle followed before she wagged her fingers and whispered into the shadows around her. "Someday, Lucius… someday I'm going to make you sorry for what you've done. Someday little Lucius… someday. Someday I'll show you what you've really turned me into…and what I can do."


End file.
